Posts Tagged ‘busy’

I have never neglected this space for such a long time. In fact, I used to post a minimum of once a week fairly effortlessly. But then, there are a lot of things I used to do that have become past tense.

If there are any of you out there still reading, I apologize for the long silence. It was an unintended sort of thing. A month would go by, and I would think, “I need to update the blog.” But then I would get busy, for there are a million and three things on the to-do list, always. Or I would be too tired (see aforementioned list). Or I’d get distracted by a tiny corn-on-the-cob waving lass (see above photographic evidence).

Or I would just think, “I have nothing to say that anybody wants to hear.”

And that may still be true. Or maybe it never was. But in the end, I’m doing this for me. I’m reclaiming this space to reclaim a small part of myself that feels lonely and lost.

Around the time of my last blog post, some six (gasp!) months ago, I began writing a poem which in drafts has alternately been titled “Heart” and “Lost” but will likely not be called either of those things by the time it’s finished.

I began it in a haphazard style, having awakened one day with an idea for a new cinepoem blazing in my brain. But the poem must come before the cinepoem. So I wrote, awkwardly, as you do when trying to wake a sleeping limb.

My brain felt numb and the words felt heavy and I struggled through five lines. And then I put it away and thought, “I will come back to this.”

And now it’s July.

Anytime I would think of the blog or the poem, (in between scrambling eggs while the tot sat in her highchair banging a spoon and chanting “eggseggseggseggseggseggseggs!” and trying to race down to fling blankets and tiny PJs and multicolored socks into the dryer before the tiny PJ owner noticed my absence and going to work and coming home and remembering to say hi to Bruce and squeeze in a “Howwasyourdaydear?” In between all of that,) I would think, “Oh, it hasn’t been that long. Surely I’ll have some time tomorrow. I’ll carve out an hour.”

And now it’s July. No-one is more surprised by this than I.

This day isn’t any more or less busy than any other day, but this is the hour I’ve managed to seize. And perhaps it’s true that I have nothing to say. Nothing anyone other than me finds fascinating, anyway.

But it IS fascinating to me. This life with all of its chaos and tumble and rush. It’s endlessly fascinating.

The way she says new things, every day, that show a little mind whirring and buzzing and becoming. The way her hair grows in frantic ringlets all over the back of her head but on top, and in front, it’s perfectly straight. The way she climbs to the top of the tallest ladder on the playground, fearlessly. The way she brings me books and climbs into my lap and says, “Sit here a minute, mommy.” The way she runs, with graceless toddler bravado, arms flailing, pigtails boinging. The way Bruce and I will catch each other’s eye over her head at random moments and just grin at each other like, “Can you believe this?!”

The silence of the past months, it seems, is an indicator not just of busy-ness but of becoming-ness. Of tired-ness. Of happy-ness. Of all the -nesses that make up a life.

And someday I’ll write all about it. Someday the words will catch up.

In the meantime, I’m going to grab an hour when I can. And I’m going to finish that poem and name it something ravishing. And I’m going to shoot a cinepoem. Soon. Like in a matter of weeks soon. (Really. Shel and I have a shoot date on the calendar.)

I haven’t written even one single poem in almost three months, even though my to-do list has, in the number two spot, the title “evacuation” followed by the imperative “WRITE IT!!”

It’s not a lack of words that’s the problem, you see. It’s a lack of time. As I told the aforementioned someone, “I have a six month old baby! I’m lucky to put my shoes on the right feet in the morning.”

So then, the follow-up went, “Well, what keeps you so busy? You know, besides the baby?”

(Warning: Impending rant. Take a deep breath and duck.)

Besides the baby? What do I do all day? Other than working 40+ hours a week at one job and landing myself a brand shiny new job and commuting back and forth and coming home and doing laundry and dishes and diapers and feeding the baby and dressing the baby and feeding and dressing myself and sometimes even brushing my hair? What else?

Well, there’s the cinepoems that get entered in film festivals and there’s the etsy store orders to fulfill and there are irises in my backyard that desperately need repotting. And once in awhile I try to exercise. And get a manicure. And even a pedicure, if I’m feeling really cheeky.

Wow. Ok. Bitter, party of one!! I shouldn’t get stabby about the question, I know.

Because I do remember what it was like to be bored. To have oodles of hours to fill. To lie late in bed and luxuriate in the question of “What should I do today?”

But that was eons ago in a time before Boy and Baby and video poems.

Today I’m just wallowing in guilt over letting another month nearly slip past with nary a blog post.

And the trouble is, I can’t promise to get better! Life is just a blur these days. And so am I.

But for my own sake, i swear, I will trap some of these words on a page. And then, if I deem them worthy enough, I’ll share them with you.

It’s not a new book, no, not at all. But it’s something.

-Lo, who hounds her own favorite authors for their next works and knows that really, all this means is that she should be flattered.

This is what my brain now consists of. Absolute mush. Like congealed oatmeal sort of mush. Worms in rain puddle mush. Soggy cornflakes mush. You get the picture.

I have procrastinated on blogging because of said mush brain. What do I have to contribute when I’m a soggy mess? And I have, on general principle, refrained from posting here when I have nothing to contribute…

But sometimes when you sit in front of the blank page (or text box) and just start writing, something satisfying takes shape. Something that needed to be said. You make an appointment with the muse, as the workshop leaders say, and then you wait.

Of course, you probably shouldn’t do this waiting in public. But I shouldn’t have had french fries for lunch, either. And I did. And here we are.

I’m nearly 3 weeks into the new job and less than 1 week away from opening my home for strangers to tramp through. In the last 2 weeks I have spent more time and dollars at Crate and Barrel (votive holders), Cost Plus (vases, curtains, wall decor), Pier One (more vases), SatinBox (mirrored fruit), Target (sheets, silk pillows, curtain rods, and more curtains), Marshall’s (candles, throw rugs, more silk pillows), and Restoration Hardware (real fancy bookends) than I have in my entire previous lifetime.

It feels very adult. And sometimes I have trouble believing that I am a “real” adult. You’d think I’d be getting over that soon.

Anyway, Boy and I decided to save ourselves the thousands required to hire a professional stager and just stage our house ourselves. (I’m hoping that one of the benefits of this decision is that I get to keep all of the aforementioned vases and fancy bits. I will cut anyone who tries to make me return those mirrored apples, I swear.)

I’ve enlisted the eyeballs of my trusty pal Kathy, asking her to critique the results of my shopping and furniture scooting. She’s well qualified for this task due to her own formidable decorating skilz and vast experience with HGTV consumption. My neighbor Roy the Art Director has also pitched in. They both agree that I apparently have excellent taste. Well, duh. *polishes fingernails on lapel*

Meanwhile, in the midst of all this hullaballoo, LeeLoo’s getting stressed out. She’s all, “WTF is my comfy couch?” I have explained that the comfy couch is not gone forever, it was just less visually appealing than the teeny leather couch that now takes its place. The Loo is not pleased. I can’t blame her, but I don’t speak dog well enough to competently explain what’s going on. I’m hoping extra rations of pupperoni will do the trick.

In times like these when your head is up your own ass and all you can think about is the next 15 things on your to-do list that MUST be done yesterday, it’s easy to forget that the rest of the world is carrying on. NPR cures me of this delusion.

Just today on my way to work, I was reminded that a hateful racist murdered someone at the Holocaust Museum, Iran has possibly world-shaking elections tomorrow, Swine Flu (a.k.a. “Hamthrax”) is now classified as a global pandemic, New York is arguing about gay marriage, the FDA is going to regulate tobacco, Detriot is still fucked, 17 ethnic Uighur prisoners from Guatanamo Bay now have refuge in Palau, and the economy continues to give people aneurysms.

So you know, there’s a few things going on out there besides my own small personal hurricane. Good to remember.

Wow, 2009, you’re hardcore.

Clearly the muse has nothing truly profound to deliver today, although I am on draft #2 of two different poems, one about religion and one about dogs that begins with the lines:
“After yelling at my dog,
I decide I will be a terrible mother.”

So there’s that.

Apologies for the continued random nature of my blog posts. It’s gonna be this way for awhile. Perhaps I’ll break it up with some poetry when the dog poem is finished.

Meanwhile, you can enjoy some equally random grafitti apparently crafted by some dude named Kevin Harris, although I have a feeling that all he ever did is sign his name with a blue spray can. Correct me if I’m wrong, mister Harris, wherever you are.

This moment, this very one that’s happening right now, is the first chance I’ve had in more than a week to just breathe. You know, to sit and let your chest rise and fall, let yourself watch it go for a minute and just relax into the rhythm of air flowing in and out and in and out and in .

I used to have days — I remember them clearly — when I’d be bored to distraction. Absolutely at a loss for what to do with myself. My sister and I would solve the problem with “sister weekend”, which usually involved plunking down a great deal of cash for a large number of movie rentals, followed by extravagant orders of take-out Chinese. (mmmm. crab rangoons!)

But those days existed before Boy took up residence. Before LeeLoo arrived. Before web sites and cinepoems and California dreamin’.

Nowadays it’s all I can do to keep all the balls floating in their appropriate air spaces. But this weekend, this weekend is my gift to myself. It’s sanity weekend. Time to recharge and rejuvenate so I can start juggling again, come Monday morning.

Today has been delightful. I slept in, then threw the Loo in the Jeep for a trip down to the beach where I met a couple of friends and their one-eyed pooch, Riley. There was some wave-frolicking and sand-licking (on LeeLoo’s part), and then we came back home. Boy’s out motorcycle shopping with a friend (they’re supposed to be motorcycle shopping for the friend, not to increase Boy’s two-wheeled-vehicle collection, but we shall see…), so I’ve been catching up on my TiVo favorites — the ones that Boy refuses to watch. (Namely Veronica Mars and Battlestar Galactica, which are both amazing shows and it’s totally his loss.) I had stacked up a store of 3 new unwatched episodes each, since I’ve been too busy to watch them. But thanks to my friend TiVo, I’m all caught up with what’s going on in Neptune and New Caprica.

The rest of the weekend has a similarly leisure-filled schedule. Boy and I are doing a little photoshoot in the morning for our Christmas card (it involves costumes), and then K and I are meeting to finalize Chapter Two of the new book.

But that’s it. That’s all the worthwhile work I’m going to do this weekend. The rest of the hours will be filled with completely unproductive book-reading and beach-combing and general laying-about. How awesome is that!?

-Lo, who thinks that book-reading should be like breakfast-eating: doctor recommended for your good health.

They say “time flies” but they lie. Because you can watch things fly — birds, planes, men in tights. But time? Time moves so fast, it just melts away and you don’t even notice until another month has disappeared and a new picture appears on the calendar.

Sometimes I can’t believe how much of the year is gone already. It certainly didn’t wait around for me to get my bearings.

And there is so much going on here, so much to do. I’m in the midst of editing cinepoem #13, planning the shoot for cinepoem #14, and trying to pry open my brain and pour thoughts into ink for a big “talk” I’m giving in a few months in Alabama. (So much to say, but how do I say it?)

Then there’s the quick (and much-needed!) girlfriend vacation I’m taking with S and the longer, bigger trip to Europe (Italy, Switzerland, France) with Boy. My sister is moving up north (hooray!), LeeLoo needs her bordatella vaccine, and there are no less than seven unfinished poems sitting on my desktop.

And in the middle of all this, K and I are working, working, working on Book Number Two, with chapter one nailed down and chapters two, three and four in the works. We are determined to finish it by Christmas, but I look at the calendar now and, my god! Christmas is well within reach — any day now they’ll be hanging holly and red in the windows of downtown department stores and the California Santas will be ringing their bells on street corners whilst wearing fake beards and shorts.

It’s all going by so fast, so fast.

So instead of finishing a poem or that pile of freelance writing that’s sitting over there on the dining room table, instead of even combing my hair and peeling off my pajamas, here I am sitting in the morning sun with the Loo sleeping on one side and my half-finished peanut butter toast waiting on the other, blogging (yes, I’ve admitted it now) about nothing, really. Nothing that will change the revolution of the earth, but it feels good to bang on the keyboard, anyway.

So here’s my bit of nothing on this gorgeous October morning while November breathes down my neck and December starts cracking her candy cane knuckles:

The soundtrack of my life. Yes. Silly. Inane. But such a great time-taker-upper. I saw it first on my sister-in-law’s blog, and decided to try it for fun. The results were uncanny and sometimes astonishing, but above all, entertaining and so here it is…

The list of life “events” was provided. As instructed, I opened my iTunes, set it to shuffle, and then wrote down the first heading as a song began to play. Then I moved on to the next heading during the next song. It’s all random, you see, as you let your iTunes score the soundtrack — and my iTunes, at least, turned out to be pretty damn good at the song-picking thing, as you can see from the snippets of lyrics I’m providing, just to prove my point. Here we go…

OPENING CREDITS: Medication by Garbage (Version 2.0)
“I’ve got to make a point these days to extricate myself.”[I think it’s quite appropriate that Shirley gets the opening credits. Love. Her.]

FIRST DAY AT SCHOOL: You Stick It In Me by I Am X (Kiss + Swallow)
“I have blood, so hurt me.”[Isn’t that the mantra for nerds and weirdos everywhere?]

FALLING IN LOVE: The Fragile by Nine Inch Nails (The Fragile)
“We’ll find the perfect place to go where we can run and hide. I’ll build a wall and we can keep them on the other side.”[Actually, the song right before this on the album (We’re In This Together) was played at my wedding reception. Long live NIN!]

FIGHT SONG: All the Rage by Massivivid (Dressed to the Nines, Armed to the Teeth)
“You think you’re all the rage, ‘cuz mine can’t be contained. But at least I’ll make a few dollars from my pain.”[Massivivid was my old friend Franky‘s band, and this song was actually written about a particular person who caused quite a few fights in my life, so it’s rather creepy with the appropo!]

BREAKING UP: Limp by Fiona Apple (When the Pawn…)
“You fondle my trigger then you blame my gun.”[One of my favorite lyrics ever, and very true when it comes to infighting in relationships.]

PROM: Breath Control by Recoil feat. Nicole Blackman (Liquid)
“Every woman has an itch and every nice girl secretly wants to switch.”[Funny that a poem about kinky sex is the trax for “prom”.]

LIFE: Long Hard Road out of Hell by Marilyn Manson (Spawn Soundtrack)
“To be this young I’m oh so scared. I wanna live, I wanna love, but its a long hard road out of hell.”[I once knew a girl who would play AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” every morning on her way to work. Not a great way to start your day, really.]

CAREER: An Angel Went Up in Flames by The Gas Band (Brokeback Mountain Soundtrack)
no lyrics…just noise[One of my favorite movies…and an odd song to show b/c I *hate* country music. But this is all fiddlin’ and foot stompin’, which is much like my job, so that’s ok.]

MENTAL BREAKDOWN: I Go Crazy by Flesh for Lulu (Dome Room trax)
“This city’s mad in the head and sick in the soul.”[Every time I hear this song, I think of Melvyn flailing about the dance floor at the Dome Room, back in the day.]

FLASHBACK: Always by Erasure (I Say I Say I Say)
“Am I here in vain? Hold on to the night. There will be no shame.”[Of course, there must be an 80s song for the flashback!]

GETTING BACK TOGETHER: Come As You Are by Nirvana (Nevermind)
“Come as you are, as you were, as I want you to be.”[‘Cuz isn’t that what getting back together is all about?]

WEDDING: Song for You by Katie Yearick (Demo)
“You feel like home when I’ve got no place else to run to. You occupy the vacancy behind my smile.”[Wow. That’s weird. A long time ago, my friend Katie wrote this song for her sister, my sister, and me. And she sang it at my wedding!]

BIRTH OF A CHILD: One Day by Bjork (Debut)
“One day it will happen, one day it’ll all come true.”[One day, indeed.]

MIDLIFE CRISIS: Spark by Tori Amos (From the Choirgirl Hotel)
“She’s addicted to nicotine patches. She’s afraid of a light in the dark. 6:58 are you sure where my spark is?”[Tori wrote this song about her miscarriage. Hope that’s not what my midlife crisis will be about.]

FINAL BATTLE: Golgotha Tenement Blues by Machines of Loving Grace (The Crow Soundtrack)
“I am the city. I am the park. I am glow in the motherfucking dark.”[In the midst of battle, it’s good to have the Crow on your side.]

DEATH SCENE: A Pain That I’m Used To by Depeche Mode (Playing the Angel)
“I’m not sure what I’m looking for anymore. I just know that I’m harder to console.”[No soundtrack of my life would be complete without the Mode.]

FUNERAL SCENE: Like You by Evanescence (The Open Door)
“I long to be like you, lie cold in the ground like you. There’s room inside for two and I’m not grieving for you. I’m coming for you.”[There she is! I was wondering when Amy would show up, and she comes at the end with the best song.]

That was fun. Now I have to put some real clothes on and extricate myself from the Internet. Au revoir.

-Lo, who likes to sing the theme song to Weeds — “Little boxes on the hillside, little boxes made of ticky tacky…”